


Out unseen

by sableflynn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fantasy, Kidnapping, Magic, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Kissing, Rape Aftermath, Team Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, Victim Blaming, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sableflynn/pseuds/sableflynn
Summary: A small group of friends band together to investigate the criminal underworld of the city, and end up in way over their heads. One of their members gets taken captive and tortured by the very man they are investigating. (smutty whumpy nonsense, has a happy ending i promise)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

The masquerade was the social event of the season, a veritable who’s-who of the rich and beloved in Trisgate’s social circles. The top of the social ladder mingled with the hanger-ons and the starry-eyed climbers, and relationships were formed and broken with a single look. Through it all, the hum of magic was thick in the air for those who were sensitive to it, making the music a bit sweeter, the lighting a bit warmer, and the lips a bit looser.

Felicia had never in her life felt so utterly out of her element. 

_You guys will charm your way in, have a fun night of dancing,_ Elyse had said as they made the plan. _And well...if you happen to overhear something secret, no one could fault you for that. And if one of you happened to wander away from the dance floor, explore the mansion a bit more, maybe find something more...incriminating—then you just got lost looking for the exit, right?_ They’d all laughed about it, and Felicia and Marcus planned how they would sweep in and start putting together the pieces of this criminal underworld they knew was running the city. Marcus would sneak in the back to find what he could, and Felicia would dance and charm and keep them all distracted while learning their secrets, and then they’d head back home to celebrate their success.

The reality was much more complicated.

The event wasn’t exclusive— _they’d_ been able to get in, after all—but there was a strong sense of connection, of shared history, among the guests. Felicia caught the furtive glances, the whispered conversations on the sidelines, the handshakes that seemed a touch too firm. 

And at the center of it all, their charming host: Claude Volkan. Beloved socialite and philanthropist, CEO of the largest hospital system in Trisgate. And, if their suspicions were correct, one of the top ringleaders of the crime and corruption and trafficking that rotted the city from the inside out. Beneath his dazzling smiles and piercing gaze, he was a predator, and she and Marcus would be his prey in an instant if they made a wrong move.

Through the dancing and drinking of the night, she was constantly aware of where he was in the room, who he was talking to, like a beacon subtly drawing her gaze at all times. How many of the people there knew who their host truly was? How many were involved in that dark underworld right alongside him? She couldn’t keep her eyes from searching through the crowd, her mind wandering through endless possibilities of loyalties and alliances and betrayals. 

Marcus cleared his throat at her side, and she jumped. 

“You could at least try to look like you’re having fun,” he said with a small smile. They were taking a break from mingling, leaning against the wall of the ornate ballroom together. To all the world, they looked like a young couple out for a night of luxury, Felicia with her elegant gown, Marcus with his crisp suit, their plain masks a perfect matching pair.

She sighed. “I just can’t stop my mind from running through— _everything_. We’re so close to so many people, but we just don’t _know_.” 

“Soon we _will_ know.” Marcus’s tone was overly-casual, belied by the tension in his posture. 

She glanced sideways at him. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” His response came much too quickly. “Why? Do I look nervous?” He held his champagne flute in a stiff grip, and his other hand fidgeted constantly with his mask.

“A little,” she admitted. Setting aside her own drink, she took his free hand in both her own. “Just relax. I won’t let anyone get to you.” 

He smiled at her comfort, but his eyes still scanned the room warily. “I should do it now.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“You should do it now,” she agreed. They’d been here long enough, and she didn’t want to push their luck. She was sure they already stood out like the impostors they were, a pair from the run-down East Side, playing pretend at a night of elegance and class. The sooner they could finish what they came here for and leave without attracting attention, the better.

Giving her hand a final quick squeeze, Marcus detached himself from her and made his way across the room. She watched as he vanished into the throng of dancers, then settled herself back against the wall to keep an eye on the crowds. As long as Marcus was uninterrupted, he would be able to finish up within twenty minutes or so. Then they would just mill around for just a bit longer, smile, act charming, maybe take another one of those cute little finger sandwiches. They’d be out within the hour with what they needed, and no one else would know.

She hoped so, at least.

Still primed to pick up on anything off within the crowds of partygoers, Felicia’s gaze was drawn once again to Volkan across the room. He was frowning, looking towards the secluded back hallway where Marcus had slipped off to. Then he set down his glass of champagne and made his way through the guests towards that hallway.

 _I can’t let him find Marcus._ She propelled herself across the floor before she could fully decide what she was going to say, nearly colliding with Volkan in her haste to reach him. He stopped short before her, and his eyes flicked towards the hallway, frustration briefly written across his face before he smoothed his expression over. 

“My lady, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, extending a hand in greeting, once again the charming host. “I am Claude Volkan. So lovely of you to join us tonight.”

Felicia took his hand in an eager shake, quickly deciding how she was going to play this. _We’re a pair of social climbers, wide-eyed at our first real gala, overcome with the glitz and glamour of the rich and famous around us._ She let a bit of breathless wonder creep into her tone as she said, “I’m Fern. Fern Hayes. It’s wonderful to meet you at last.” 

He smiled at that, but his gaze was already drifting to the hallway again. “Likewise, I’m sure.” He was distracted, already beginning to gently move past her. “I’m sorry, Fern, but I must excuse myself.” 

She was losing him. She couldn’t let him find Marcus searching the back halls, away from the safety of the public eye. “Wait, please!” Her hand shot out to grab his arm, and he immediately froze. He turned to face her, so slowly, and she swallowed back a shudder at the change in his demeanor. He still had that charming smile on his face, but the muscles in his arm were tight with tension, and underneath his mask, his eyes were predatory. 

_Now I’ve become his prey._

“What do you need, Fern?” His voice was light, but she could see the steel in his gaze.

“I was—” _Keep him occupied._ “I was hoping you would honor me with a dance.” 

He tilted his head, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. She was suddenly hyper-aware of how plain her mask and dress were compared to his own ornate outfit. His dark, piercing eyes were breaking through her carefully built layers of confidence to uncover Felicia, the scared young woman who was in way over her head. She swallowed and held his gaze.

“I would love to dance with you,” he said finally, extending a hand out to her in invitation. She took it and threaded her fingers with his as he began to lead them in a slow dance around the room. She braced herself back, attempting to keep some space between them, but he pulled her close against him with a warm gloved hand around her waist. 

“Are you enjoying the ball, Fern?” The edge was gone from his voice, but she could still feel the way his hand gripped her waist a bit tighter than necessary. _He can’t do anything to me here. We’re surrounded by witnesses._ If an uncomfortable dance was all it took to keep Marcus safe, she would do so happily. She nodded in response to Volkan’s question, her head turned to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Look at me,” he said, and, startled, she did. He was much taller, and she had to tilt her head to look up at him. He gazed down at her, lips slowly curving into a smile, and she was struck by the intensity in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Who did you come here with tonight?”

Swallowing down her nausea at his tone, she tried to keep her own voice light. “My partner. Matthew. We...we’re so excited to be here tonight.” She was conscious of every shift of his grip on her, the way his body slid around hers as he led them, the tickle of his breath on her ear as he leaned closer to reply.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him.” The sounds of the crowds and the music around them seemed to dim as they continued to dance. Felicia tracked every change in his tone as if her life depended on it. “Is he not here now? I hope you’ll introduce us.”

“He stepped out for a smoke,” she said, her hand tightening its grip of his shoulder in an involuntary nervous twitch. She realized that their dancing had brought them far from the center dance floor, away from the insulation of the crowds. “He should be back any moment.” _Please._

“I see. So what you’re telling me,” and there his voice shifted to something low, dangerous, “is that there is no one in this room who will miss you if you vanish.”

Her stomach dropped. “What—” Before she could even think to move, he dragged her into the shadows of a secluded alcove, hidden from the partygoers’ view. She tried to break free of his grasp, but he slammed her against the wall, his body pressing into hers and pinning her in place. 

“What are you—” He cut her off with his hand over her mouth, her cries of protest muffled by his glove.

“You really think I don’t see what you two are doing,” he hissed, his hand pushing harder against her face, crushing her against the marble wall behind her. “You walk in with this wide-eyed innocent act, but you’re watching everyone like a hawk. You—” Her hands frantically pushed at him, grabbed at his arms, trying desperately to dislodge him. He caught both wrists in a single hand and slammed them against the wall above her head. “You throw yourself at me right as your partner goes searching through my private rooms, and you think I don’t notice?” 

Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to _get out_ , to get away from him, but his grip on her wrists was like a vice. She kicked out her legs wildly, and he crowded closer to her, pressing her legs against the wall with his own. His hand moved from her mouth and slid down her neck, coming to press against her collarbone as his face drew closer to hers. “You already lied to me about your name once,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll give you two more chances to tell me the truth.”

She knew the game was up, but she still had to try. She forced herself to look into his merciless eyes, allowing a scared tremor to creep into her voice as she answered. “I’m Fern. F-Fern Hayes. Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to dance.” 

The slap caught her off guard, slamming her face to the side and leaving her cheek burning even with the impact softened by his glove. He grabbed her chin and wrenched her face back around to stare at him, and she was chiding herself, _stupid, stupid to let it get this far, I shouldn’t have let us move away from the crowds, I shouldn’t have even let him anywhere near me…_

_But I can’t let him follow Marcus._

Volkan’s fingers were painfully tight on her face, a bruising grip that gave her no room to move. “We both know that’s not true,” he said, fingers digging into her chin. “Try one more time, and don’t lie again.”

She knew the innocent act wasn’t going to work, and his hands were bruising her chin and her wrists, and his body was pressing up against hers, overly hard and hot, and she _snapped_ , throwing herself against him with all her strength. “Get off of me! Let me go!” She yelled, kicking her legs, slamming her head forward, screaming indiscriminately in hopes that someone, _anyone_ , might come across their secluded alcove and interrupt whatever he had planned. 

His hand clamped over her face again, this time crushing both her mouth and nose. She thrashed beneath him, struggling to breath, but he was immovable as stone. The sounds of the party were fading as her entire world became his hand smothering the breath from her, and his eyes boring into hers.

Just as her lungs began to ache, he released her. She sucked in a desperate breath, her knees shaking under her as she was held up by his other hand still pinning her wrists to the wall. He considered her wordlessly, and she felt a chill come over her at the subtle, dangerous shift in his demeanor. Before he had been angry, demanding, aggressive. Now his expression had shifted to something anticipatory, almost playful, as his eyes trailed over her body. It was as if somewhere in his mind, he had stopped seeing her as a rival to crush, and started seeing her as an object to enjoy.

“I’m perfectly happy to let your boy snoop around back there as long as he wants,” Volkan said, his voice low. “As long as I have something out here to keep me entertained.” 

Her stomach dropped at his insinuation, and she renewed her struggles against the hand pinning her to the wall. “If you even _think_ —”

“You’re going to stay _quiet_ during this,” he said with a finger placed over her mouth in warning, “or I’ll just have to go back there and see what your friend is up to after all. We can be as loud as we want, back where no one will find us.” 

_I can’t let him do this to me._ She nearly sobbed with the growing horror of what Volkan wanted, what he was going to take from her whether she let him or not. No plan was worth that. And yet even as she thought it, she realized, _I can’t let him do this to Marcus._

How long had it been? It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Not enough time for Marcus to find what he needed. She felt paralyzed; she couldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t, but she needed to keep Marcus safe. Just a bit longer. She froze with indecision.

Volkan smiled at her silence. “See? You’re already learning.” He drew the glove off his free hand with his teeth, tucked it into his pocket. He brought his hand to her face again, his now bare thumb pressing against her cheek, and she flinched from the touch of his skin on hers. He caressed just beneath the edge of her mask. “Time to see what tonight’s entertainment looks like,” he murmured, and he gently lifted her mask from her face. 

She said nothing as he studied her uncovered face. His fingers brushed her skin softly, following the spray of freckles, the curve of her cheekbone. Her heart was in her throat as he examined her, and she didn’t dare make a sound. He was being gentle, now. She shuddered to think of how he would be if he found Marcus, alone, somewhere he shouldn’t be. 

Then his hand began to wander lower. He touched her neck, his thumb rubbing along her throat, a shadow of a threat. His fingers traced along her collarbone, feather-light, skimming her bare shoulders above the sleeves of her dress. His hand followed her curves lower, until it settled around her breast. 

“Please,” she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop herself. 

“ _Oh._ ” His eyes lit up at that. “You can beg, if you want,” he said, his thumb rubbing her through the chiffon of her dress, “As long as you stay quiet.” 

She bit her lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any further reaction. He grinned and deepened the touch until she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. Satisfied, he continued exploring her, his hand brushing over her waist, her hip. 

She was already tense with dread, barely able to breathe, but when he moved aside the folds of her dress and his hand found her bare leg beneath, she had to suppress a sob. His eyes never left hers as his hand slid up along the length of her thigh until it reached the edge of her underwear. 

“Don’t,” she whispered, abandoning all thought of staying silent as she felt his fingers fretting the hem of the fabric. “Please.”

“You really thought this was just a game.” His fingers were brushing her lower lips now, through the thin fabric. “You wanted to...what? Dig up dirt on me, is that it? Like some plucky journalist?” The fingers were harsher, more insistent, and she instinctively tried to flinch away but there was nowhere to go. “This is what happens when you delude yourself into believing you’re in control.”

He pushed the fabric aside and forced two fingers inside of her. 

Her knees buckled against the invasion, and for a moment she was only held up by his other hand pinning her wrists against the wall. She struggled to get her feet back under her as she was overcome by the pressure and the pain as he forced his fingers in deeper, harder. Unable to escape, she started babbling. “Stop, stop, don’t fucking _touch_ —”

Her words were cut off as he pressed his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. She gave a muffled cry as his tongue slid into her mouth and tried to bite down, but he withdrew just as suddenly. She was stunned, breathless 

“No more talking,” he said, and he added a third finger. 

She thrashed against him, fighting in earnest now, but he just pressed himself closer. His touch was not gentle. His fingers probed deeper, digging, scraping against her, painful. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to end, but that just made every other sensation jump to the forefront: his breath hot on her face, the crush of her wrists against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest, and above it all, sharp pain lancing between her legs like an ice pick stabbing deep inside her.

She opened her eyes to find his face inches from her, his eyes drinking in every flicker of reaction. He added a fourth finger. 

She gave a pained gasp at the stretch, barely able to take it, and he groaned. “So this is why he brought you along,” Volkan growled in her ear. “A pretty little breakable thing to distract me until I use you up.” He laughed, a mirthless sound. “I guess it’s working.” 

All of their grand plans of fighting corruption and taking down the criminals that had the city in their pockets felt so distant right now; all that mattered was Volkan in front of her, hurting her, his hand violating deeper and deeper within her. She couldn’t bring herself to care anymore about what Marcus found. She just needed this to _end_ —

Abruptly, Volkan released her, withdrawing both hands and taking a step back. She sagged against the wall for a moment, willing herself not to fall to her knees in front of him. She caught her breath in shuddering gasps and her eyes started to flutter shut, but they flew open again at the distinct sound of a belt buckle.

Volkan was unzipping the front of his pants, he was—

 _No._ Self-preservation took over, and she threw herself past him, aiming a fist at his face as she flew past. It connected, and she could’ve sworn she heard him laugh, but she didn’t stop to look. She remembered to pull her mask back over her face a bare second before she stepped back out onto the dance floor.

Away from the alcove, the party was continuing as if nothing had happened, as if her very sense of self hadn’t just been indelibly shifted. A passing couple danced by her with an odd glance up and down her body, and she realized how she must look, bursting into the room with her hair and clothes in a disarray, her chest heaving. She tried to calm her breathing, smoothing down her hair and shifting the folds of her dress with a desperate need to look _okay_. 

The back of her neck prickled as she scanned the ballroom, praying that Marcus had already returned. With every second that passed, she expected to feel hands digging into her shoulders, grabbing her by the arms or the hair, pulling her back into that dark alcove where no one could help her. She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms, and that small prick of pain helped bring her back to herself. Then she blinked, and her eyes locked with Marcus’s across the room, dark with worry behind his mask.

She was across the floor and at his side in a heartbeat. As he reached out to her, she stopped just short of throwing herself at him, her heart suddenly racing and her skin crawling with the ghost of Volkan’s touch all over her.

Some part of him sensing her discomfort, Marcus pulled his hand back. “What were you—”

“Did you get it?” She asked, suddenly short of breath. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. “Did you get _anything?_ ”

He nodded, brow furrowed. “Yeah, but where—”

“We need to leave.” She almost felt guilty for cutting him off, but she knew she would break down the minute she had to face what had just happened. “Now. Please.”

He nodded again, more determined this time, and held out his arm for her. She took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s go,” he murmured, guiding them towards the door. “It’s fine. We’re leaving.” Her grip on his arm was iron tight, her steps short and careful as she tried not to agitate the—the _injury._ The door was right there, framed with magic-warmed candlelight.

“Ah, Fern, there you are!”

Felicia froze as Volkan stepped from the crowd to block their path towards the door. He was pristine, seemingly untouched by what he had done, gloves back on his hands once again. The shadows of his face shifted in the light, and Felicia could almost convince herself she could see a bruise beginning to form on his cheek. 

Volkan’s eyes swept over the pair, and Felicia felt smaller and more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. “Must you leave so soon? The night is young.”

She realized she still had Marcus’s arm in an iron grip, and she tried to force herself to relax. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Volkan’s face, that cruel mouth that had pressed against hers, those eyes drinking in every bit of her suffering. She could feel it now. Maybe she was still in that dark alcove with him, alone.

“We’re leaving.” Marcus’s answer was brusque, bordering on rude, and it snapped her out of her trance. 

“Then it was a pleasure meeting you both,” Volkan intoned with a slight incline of his head. Then he turned his attention on her. “Especially you, Fern. Thank you for a lovely dance.” He placed one hand on her bare shoulder and kissed the air near her cheek in a formal farewell, and her skin burned even with the fabric of his glove as a barrier.

Then he lingered near her ear a moment longer. “If I have you again,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “I will never let you leave.”

Then he stepped back with a rueful smile, standing aside to let them pass. “Safe travels, then,” he said. “I hope to see you at the next event.”

***

Felicia’s heels pounded the pavement as she strode through the night, arms wrapped around herself against the crisp fall air. Her nails dug into her bare arms, sharper and deeper, almost enough to distract her from the hot pain that shot between her legs with every step. Somewhere behind her, she was vaguely aware of Marcus struggling to keep up, but she couldn’t even look at him yet. She was a breath away from collapsing into tears, and they weren’t _safe_ yet. 

Marcus caught up to walk alongside her, his hands moving to take his mask off. “Felicia, shouldn’t we grab a streetcar—”

“I just need to walk,” she snapped, harsher than she intended. “Don’t take your mask off yet.” They were still too close to the party, to _him,_ and she had no idea who could be following them through the night.

Marcus fell into silence, and as they moved further from the overwhelming dazzle of the ball, she still felt something of the night lingering in the air around them. A faint trace of magic, something she might not have even noticed if she hadn’t been so hyper-aware of every sensation around her. 

Of course. Why would Volkan bother sending a person to follow them, when a tracing charm would work just as well?

She stopped short on a stone bridge spanning one of the many canals of the city. The glow of lamplight cast long shadows along the cobblestone ground. No one else was around.

Marcus stopped next to her, looking out over the water. “Felicia—” 

“I think he’s following us.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath in, and _there_ —she could feel the magic clinging to them like a perfume. 

“ _Following_ us?” Marcus gripped the rail of the bridge with tight fingers and glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning the empty streets around them.

“Magically. A tracing charm. It’s—we need to search ourselves.” She took a step back from the wall, fists clenched. “It’ll be something small, like the size of a coin. Check your pockets, anywhere anyone might have touched you.”

Deep down, she already knew Marcus wouldn’t find the charm on himself. She knew, with bitter certainty, that Volkan’s assault on her had been more than just a callous display of power. _Hands all over her body, lips crushing hers, fingers probing deep—_

She shook the thought away with a shudder and began checking herself for the charm. She traced her fingers through her hair, sifting through the delicate updo. Down along her skin where his touch had burned so fiercely, until she reached the edge of the dress’s neckline. She felt along the fabric covering her chest, a flush rising to her cheeks at the memory of his hand caressing. Her own hands drifted further lower in an unconscious reenactment of his touches, until she slid her hands under her skirt and began to feel around the volume of layered chiffon below.

 _There._ Pressed into the waistband of her underwear—of course, _of course,_ where else would it be—a small, sharp medallion, thrumming with magic at her touch. She detached it and pulled it out, held it up under the lamplight. 

“Someone...stuck that on your dress?” Marcus asked, peering at the charm. “How did they even know to trace you?”

“He knew.” The medallion glinted dully in the light, and all at once she needed it gone. She flung it into the canal with all the force she could muster. A soft _splash_ sounded in the quiet night.

And she sank to her knees and began to sob.

Every reaction, every emotion she had been clamping down on rose to the surface at once. Wrenching her mask from her face, she buried her eyes in her palms, her breathing sharp and fast. She was terrified, she was furious, she wanted to curl up as small as possible and never look at anyone ever again, she wanted to peel her skin off, she wanted to wipe the memory of Volkan’s smug, easy grin from her mind, she—

“Felicia?”

At Marcus’s voice she looked up, her face still damp with tears. He had taken his mask off too, and his eyes were open and honest. He knelt beside her, looking at her with compassion and concern, the polar opposite of the vicious desire and mockery she had seen in Volkan’s eyes. 

“He hurt me,” she whispered.

Marcus reached out for her, then pulled his hand back at the last moment, still unsure. “What happened?”

“He…” _He was going after you and I had to stop him any way I could._ She couldn’t tell him that. Not yet. He would never forgive himself if he thought he had played any role in what happened. “We danced. He brought me over to this...somewhere off to the side, like an alcove, no one else could see us.”

Marcus’s brows knit with worry, and Felicia could see him already putting the pieces together. She hated it, suddenly, the thought of him speculating and imagining what had happened, and so her next words came out in a rush. “He confronted me and said he knew I was investigating him, and then he—” She drew up short, swallowed dryly, continued. “He hurt me. He...touched me.”

His eyes widened in comprehension, in horror. “He _what?_ ”

Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced down at her hands before forcing herself to look at Marcus again. “It...it was just his fingers.”

“ _Just?_ ” For a moment Marcus looked ready to head right back to the party and confront Volkan there and then. A small part of her wanted him to. She wanted the entire world to know exactly who that man really was.

But that wasn’t how these things worked. And as she sat there studying Marcus’s expression, another problem dawned on her. “He saw my face,” she said, remembering. _Let’s see what tonight’s entertainment looks like._

Marcus bit his lip with worry. They had always been so careful, all of them. They never let anyone see their faces, never even directly interacted with anyone they suspected of being involved in this dark underworld they wanted to tear apart. It was the only reason they had been able to do as much as they had without immediately being crushed. 

“W-we’ll deal with that,” Marcus said, his voice shaking despite the confidence he tried to exude. “No one needs to know. It’ll be fine—”

“It won’t be _fine,_ ” she snapped, her voice rising in pitch. “He saw me, and he knows who I am and he’s not gonna let that get away—” The memories were rising again, his hands all over her, pressing harder, deeper, more painful. “I just—fuck, I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

“There’s no _should’ve._ ” Marcus’s tone was stern, but then he softened. “Felicia, I—I’m so sorry. None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”

Some part of her knew that deep down. But it didn’t feel true at all, not now, when her mind kept running through a million things she could’ve done differently, anything that could’ve prevented... _this._

She couldn’t change what had happened. But maybe they could still do something now. 

“What did you get from them?” Her gaze on him turned steely. 

He seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. “I, uh—I mean, I heard some things, but listen, that doesn’t matter right now, you—”

“I need to know what you found.” She took his hand then in both of hers, allowing herself to feel the warmth of his skin, a touch that wasn’t hurting her. “Please.” _I need to know that tonight was worth something._

He hesitated a moment, then began to talk. “All the doors back there were locked. Couldn’t even open them with the tricks Darya showed me. I think there was some magic fortifying whatever locks he had.” He shifted on the ground, moving closer to her. “But I heard a conversation...it was Becker, you know him, that fancy businessman? We knew he was involved in something shady. I don’t know who the other guy was, but they were discussing a trade of some sort.” 

Felicia held her breath, hopeful. “A trade? With...Volkan?” 

Marcus nodded. “Next week. Down by the southern docks. I don’t know what they’re trading, but it sounded pretty damn illegal.”

She squeezed his hand, focusing on this thread of hope he was giving her, and not on the terror and pain that still churned in the back of her mind. “So if we could get some pictures of this…”

Marcus drew his hand away suddenly, running it through his hair, nervous. “It sounds good, but I just—I don’t know if it’s safe. After...after what just happened.” He wasn’t looking directly at her anymore. 

“We have to do it.” Felicia took his face and turned it to look at her, and there was fear in his eyes, but determination under the surface, too. She knew he was seeing the same look mirrored in her eyes. “Don’t you see? He’s trying to intimidate us, scare us away.” _This is what happens when you delude yourself into believing you’re in control._ “It means...it means we’re getting close to something he doesn’t want us to see.”

She stood then, holding her mask loosely in one hand, turning to look out over the waters of the canal once again. “This is what he does,” she said, forcing a confidence into her voice that she wasn’t entirely sure she felt, because she needed to believe this was possible. “He crushes everyone who gets too close to the truth, scares them all into silence.” 

And she was scared. She was terrified. But she was angry, too. And Volkan would just keep doing this over and over with nothing stopping him if she gave in to that fear.

Marcus stood beside her, and she took his hand once again. “We can’t let him scare us,” she said. “We’re gonna blow his whole operation wide open.” She took a deep breath, and the cool night breeze dried the tracks of tears on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small breather before things get much worse.

Elyse sat curled on the couch, staring at the book she was holding. Not reading, no; her eyes passed over the same paragraph over and over while she absorbed nothing. Anna sat next to her, fingers drumming the side table, mind seemingly a million miles away. Kailo was sketching in a notebook, but his gaze kept drifting through the kitchen to the entryway. Darya was fidgeting, pacing, straightening out things that didn’t need to be straightened, constantly moving around the room. 

Try as they might to distract themselves, they were all holding their breath. Waiting.

The door opened with a creak and Elyse was on her feet in an instant. Felicia and Marcus stepped inside with a gust of autumn wind, and it wasn’t until she saw them returned home safe that Elyse realized just how worried she’d been for the past several hours. 

“How was it?” Elyse asked, primed for some casual banter about the ball, but something in the pair’s demeanor gave her pause as she approached. Felicia’s eyes were red and her face was lined with exhaustion, and Marcus was jumpy, twitchy.

Felicia leaned forward to give Elyse a quick kiss and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We got some good info. I’m gonna go get out of this dress, and then we can talk about it.” She opened her mouth as if about to add something else, then shut it with a final forlorn glance and quickly left for her room.

Marcus murmured something about getting changed as well before excusing himself, and Elyse felt a growing unease. _Something went wrong. They got caught, they got hurt, we’re in danger._ She rubbed her temples with shaking hands, willing herself to relax. Of course they were exhausted. They just spent the night in disguise, unable to let their guard down. They would need a minute to decompress.

Elyse headed to the kitchen table where everyone else was beginning to gather. The room was subdued, quiet save for the sounds of Kailo putting a kettle on to make some chamomile tea. Elyse took a seat and Felicia and Marcus returned a moment later, their evening wear swapped out for loose pajamas. Maybe she was reading too much into things, but Elyse could’ve sworn there was something painful in the glances the pair kept sharing.

Once everyone had settled at the table, Elyse cleared her throat and tried to force a cheerfulness she didn’t fully feel. “So, how was the dance?”

There was a beat of silence, another exchanged look between Felicia and Marcus, and then he spoke up. “It was fine.” His expression said otherwise, but he pushed on before anyone could comment. “I overheard a conversation. Becker and—I don’t know, some lackey. We were right about him.” Marcus’s eyes blazed with determination. “He is involved with everything—the smuggling, the disappearances— _and_ he’s connected to Volkan.”

The high whistle of the tea kettle cut off his next words, and Felicia visibly jumped, her head snapping up in alarm. The sudden fear in her eyes made Elyse’s heart ache, but she bit her lip, unwilling to comment on it in front of everyone. Instead, she busied herself with getting some cups out while Kailo finished making the tea. She began placing cups out on the table for everyone, and Felicia took her hand as she passed by, giving it a quick squeeze.

“It’s some sort of trade deal,” Marcus continued, holding his cup with both hands and breathing in the steam. “Becker and Volkan. Next Wednesday. Down by the docks.” 

“So if we could disrupt that—” Darya began, but Anna cut her off.

“If we disrupt that, we’ve blown our cover just to screw with them once, and they’ll just keep doing the things they do and ruining lives and nothing will change.” 

Kailo tilted his head, considering. “But if we got some pictures or something, some evidence, and made that public…”

Elyse let the three of them debate without fully listening, her attention drawn across the table to Felicia and Marcus. Felicia was gazing down at the cup of tea held in her hands, her eyes stormy and unfocused. Then Marcus leaned over and whispered something to her, and she blinked, snapping back to attention. 

“—just the two of them in a photo together like that, clearly engaging in something shady, that might just be what we need to break this open.”

Kailo’s voice broke through the fog of Elyse’s mind, and she refocused on the conversation at hand. This was a valuable opportunity, and they had to move carefully. Logistics. She could handle this. It was familiar, stopped her from dwelling on just what had gone wrong at the party that had Felicia and Marcus so shaken up. 

“So we go observe this—Marcus, did he actually say what he was trading?”

Marcus set his cup down, brow furrowing. “Don’t think he did, actually. Drugs, maybe? Some sort of magic contraband?”

Elyse shrugged. “Either way—we watch this trade, we get some pictures, we _don’t let them see us_. Does that sound like a plan?” 

The others murmured their agreement, and then Darya asked, “Who’s _we?_ ”

“Probably just one or two of us,” Anna said after a slight pause. “Too many of us go, it’ll draw attention.”

“I’ll go.”

It was the first time Felicia had spoken since the discussion began. All eyes turned on her. 

“Are you sure?” Marcus asked immediately, and Felicia turned to him with a look that, while not _quite_ a glare, held something of determination and a touch of anger.

“ _Yes,_ ” she said, and Marcus nodded.

“I’ll go too,” he said. “We’ll go together.” 

Still not completely sure what had just passed between them, Elyse forced herself to press on. “So Felicia and Marcus will go, next Wednesday, and get whatever evidence they can.”

Felicia downed the rest of her tea and set the cup down with a rattle. “Great. That’s a plan.” She stood abruptly, weariness etched in the lines of her face, and turned to leave. “Good night, then.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Kailo began, but Felicia had already left the room. 

“She just...needs a break,” Marcus offered weakly, gathering up some of the cups to bring to the sink. “We had a long night.”

***

Elyse sat waiting in the bedroom when Felicia returned. She stood at the doorway for a moment, like she was waiting for something—but Elyse didn’t know what, and then she entered the room in earnest and sat next to her on the bed. 

“Hey,” Felicia murmured, uncharacteristically shy.

“Hey,” Elyse replied. “Everything ok?” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. _Stupid question. Of course everything isn’t ok, we could all see that._

Felicia gave a small laugh. “I think you already know the answer to that,” she said, a bit of wryness breaking through the haze of her exhaustion, and Elyse had to smile despite everything.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Everything about Felicia felt so uncertain, so guarded, and Elyse wasn’t sure how much she should push. 

“I do. I just…” Felicia began, haltingly, her gaze sliding from Elyse’s face to anywhere else. “At the party, I had a run-in with V-Volkan.” She stumbled a bit over his name, and Elyse felt a growing dread at Felicia’s obvious discomfort. “We danced, and he pulled me aside somewhere more—private.” She took Elyse’s hand in both her own, still looking down and not directly at her, and began rubbing circles in her palm with both of her thumbs. “And he said he knew I was up to something, and then he, um. Assaulted me.”

She whispered the word, as if by making it smaller she could minimize the damage that was done to her. Elyse’s mind filled in what was unsaid, flashes of Felicia, terrified, alone, crushed up against the wall in some overly-elaborate ballroom, hands violating—Elyse couldn’t stop herself from following further and further what must have happened—

Felicia drew her hands away. “Sorry,” she whispered, still looking down. “I’m sorry, I—I know that was a lot—”

“No!” Elyse grabbed Felicia’s hands again, then immediately drew back, because how dare she presume to grab Felicia like that, after what she had just been through. “Felicia, you—you don’t have to be sorry. For anything. I—can I touch you?”

Felicia nodded at that, and then pulled Elyse into a hug before she could even move. Elyse wrapped her arms around Felicia in return, hesitant at first, and then fully allowing herself to sink into the embrace.

Her mind swirled with emotions, shock and grief and pain intermingling into heartbreak. But beneath all that, she felt a simmering anger that almost caught her off-guard. Her hands curled into fists, and she wanted to rage against the cruelty and callousness of the world. 

_Useless rage,_ a part of her realized. _She doesn’t need this from me right now._

“What do you need from me?” Elyse murmured instead, forcing her hands to relax, bringing herself back with palms pressed against Felicia’s back. 

Felicia pulled back from the hug then, studying Elyse. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I guess...I just need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Elyse was taken aback by the request. “Of course I trust you.”

“I know.” Felicia bit her lip, glancing off to the side. “It’s just—we’re all a team, and we need to be able to rely on each other, and you can’t be worrying about me or...or thinking I’m _delicate_ or something.”

“I don’t think you’re _delicate_ —” Elyse paused, gathered her thoughts. Their discussion at the table flashed through her mind, Marcus’s murmured _are you sure?_ when Felicia volunteered herself. “Are you...worried? About the job you and Marcus are taking?”

“No!” Felicia’s reply was quick. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Abashed, she clasped her hands in her lap. “But I need to be able to still do these things. And to be able to do them without—worrying about you worrying about me, you know?” 

Elyse would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried. She was _terrified._ Her mind followed endless paths to the worst possible outcomes—Felicia and Marcus killed, or caught and tortured in the worst ways. 

She couldn’t lie to Felicia. So instead she told the truth, and said, “I trust you.” 

Something like relief broke out across Felicia’s face. “I love you so much.” She brushed back loose strands of Elyse’s hair with a gentle hand and pulled her into a kiss, and Elyse’s heart warmed with the touch.

“What do you want tonight?” Elyse asked, her hand still lingering on Felicia’s skin, their faces still close.

Felicia sighed, almost inaudibly. “Can I just...hold you?” 

Elyse nodded and pulled back the covers so they could climb into bed together. She lay down, and Felicia pulled the blankets over them and wrapped warm arms around her. Her head nestled into Elyse’s neck, her breath soft on her skin.

“I love you,” Felicia whispered, her eyes already drooping shut. 

“I love you.” Elyse didn’t think for one minute that Felicia actually fell asleep that quickly; she could still feel the tension in her body, the way her arms were placed a touch too carefully. Elyse’s heart still hurt, with fear and sadness and anger and an overwhelming need to make everything better. But as she shut her eyes, she focused instead on the warmth of the woman with her, the tickle of Felicia’s hair brushing her skin, the utter trust involved in this simple act of vulnerable intimacy. Grounding herself in Felicia’s embrace, Elyse allowed her breathing to relax, and the pair of them drifted off into a deep sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicia and Marcus get a closer look at what Volkan is up to.

A cool autumn breeze stirred the air. The docks were silent save for the gentle lap of water against the boats, and the moonless sky was an inky void. Tucked in among the shipping containers, shrouded in shadows, Felicia and Marcus had a wide view of their surroundings while remaining hidden themselves.

She hoped so, anyway.

Shifting her crouched position to ease the cramping in her legs, Felicia glanced over at Marcus with what she hoped was a confident smile. She fidgeted with the camera in her hands, an old thing Kailo had managed to snag from the university ( _retro_ , he’d called it), held together with tape and some hodgepodge of homespun magic.

 _Just a few pictures_ , she told herself. Then they’d have what they needed, they’d have _something_ they could use against Volkan, and she wouldn’t have to spend another second anywhere near him. She swallowed down her nerves and waited.

They didn’t have to wait for long. Volkan emerged in a swirl of cool evening mist, dressed in a sharp wool overcoat against the chill of the night. He stopped under the dull glow of a streetlamp and leaned against one of the shipping crates, looking for all the world as if he belonged there and was completely at ease.

Felicia’s stomach churned to see him, so smug and confident. Completely at ease with the monster that he was. She gripped the camera tighter, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and Marcus was beside her, silent and solid and comforting.

 _You have to promise me,_ he’d said earlier that day as they were making final preparations, _promise me that if I get caught you will run and save yourself._ And she’d forced down a shudder at the thought of it, and instead said, _Of course, but you have to promise me the same thing._ And he’d frowned, and hesitated a second before finally saying, _of course._

It didn’t matter. Neither of them was going to get caught. They’d get their pictures and get out of there.

Felicia made herself look out at Volkan once again, grounding herself with the gentle touch of Marcus’s hand on her shoulder. Volkan wasn’t alone, she realized after a moment. He had two guards waiting with him, their casual posture belied by the intense sweep of their gazes across the area, and the guns holstered at their hips.

Then Becker arrived, and he wasn’t alone either.

The person with him had a bag over his head and his hands tied behind his back. Becker gave a harsh shove, and the other man stumbled into the light. Felicia’s eyes widened as Volkan stepped forward, pacing around the bound man as if sizing up a slab of meat at the market. He was talking, and she couldn’t make out the words from where they hid but there was no mistaking what was happening. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists.

“Marcus…” she breathed, finally tearing her eyes away from the sight to look back at him. His face was pale, and she could see the conclusion forming in his mind just as it had in hers.

Volkan was buying a _person._ He was buying a person, some poor soul who got on his bad side or dug too deep into something or maybe was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now Volkan would torture him or kill him or—she couldn’t bring herself to imagine what he was going to do. He was going to take this person, and there was nothing they could do. They had to take the pictures and get out before they got caught too, and then they would have something to use against him. They couldn’t blow this opportunity just to help one person.

And yet she knew there was no way they could just _leave_ him.

Marcus’s expression was shifting, resolving into something more determined. Felicia set her camera down and took his hand with both her own. Her voice was a whisper, but firm. “We need to get him out of there.”

***

They’d had to move quickly. Their plan was barely a plan at all.

Felicia tried not to let that worry her; after all, they’d had a plan when they went to the masquerade, and that…

She stopped the thought before it could go any further, and forced back the terror that threatened to paralyze her. It was fine. Marcus was going to cause some sort of distraction—he hadn’t elaborated on how—and Felicia was going to grab the man and run and they’d meet back up later. It was _fine._

No, it was stupid and reckless, but that didn’t matter. They still had to try. They couldn’t _not_. They couldn’t just leave, knowing what they knew, seeing what they saw.

Maybe whatever ruckus Marcus caused would be enough on its own. Maybe just the knowledge that someone was nearby, watching, would be enough to scare Volkan into calling off this whole deal. Maybe she would wake up in a minute and find that this was all a dream and she wasn’t about to run right under the nose of the man who had assaulted her.

Felicia peered over the top of the box she crouched behind, her fingers grasping tight to the edges. When Marcus left to cause his _distraction_ , she’d moved a bit closer to the scene, hugging the shadows as she crept along the boxes. Now she waited, and there was nothing for her to do but watch and count her breaths while she tried not to let her mind wander. Volkan had stepped back from examining the man and was talking with Becker in a low tone, and the man stood shivering in the cool autumn air, and the bodyguard was casting a wary eye over the area—and Felicia’s breath caught in her throat, because there had been _two_ bodyguards—

A gloved hand closed around her shoulder and she didn’t even think, she threw her elbow back and it collided with a _crack_ and she was scrambling, throwing herself away from the assailant and towards the maze of shipping crates—

The hands were on her again and she thrashed against them, but then she felt the cold bite of metal at her neck and she stilled.

“Don’t move,” the guard hissed, pressed the gun further up into Felicia’s chin. She was frozen. She could barely breathe.

“Please,” she managed to whisper. “Don’t—I’m just trying to find my way home, I got lost—”

“Right.” The guard let out a derisive snort and adjusted her grip, one strong arm wrapped around Felicia’s chest in an iron hold while the other kept the gun trained to her head. Felicia’s hands rose automatically to grab at the arm wrapped around her, and the guard shook her, jamming the gun harder against her skin.

“Please, don’t.” Felicia didn’t dare fight back, not with the gun pressed against her, but as the guard started to drag her back to the group, she couldn’t stop herself from desperately reaching for some escape. “Please, he’s—he’ll—”

“What he decides to do with you is none of my business,” the guard hissed, and then she raised her voice to address the group as she dragged Felicia into the light. “Sir, I found this one sulking around in the shadows.”

Volkan turned to look at them, and the air turned to ice in Felicia’s chest. His _eyes_ were on her, he was going to recognize her, he was going to _touch_ her again and she had walked right into it _._

“Let me get a look at her,” Volkan said, his voice a rumble. “And for god’s sake, put that gun down. You could kill someone with that.”

The second the gun was away from her face, Felicia threw her weight against the guard holding her, but she was stopped short as the guard twisted her arms painfully behind her back instead. Volkan watched in silence as the scuffle broke out, stepping closer to tilt Felicia’s head into the light as she panted against the guard’s grip.

“You’re the girl from the ball,” Volkan murmured, tracing one cheekbone with his thumb. Felicia swallowed down bile at his touch. “What was your name again?”

“It’s Fern,” she spat. They both knew it was a lie, but she didn’t care; she needed _something_ , the tiniest semblance of control over the situation. Volkan shifted his hand and she braced herself for a slap or punch, but he reached behind her and pulled her hair loose from its ponytail. The amber waves spilled over her shoulders.

“Of course. Fern.” Volkan threaded his fingers through a few loose strands of hair. “Do you remember what I said to you that night, as you were leaving?”

 _If I have you again, I will never let you leave._ His voice had been an echo in her mind since that night. She couldn’t escape it. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

He smiled at that, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. “I look forward to picking up where we left off, then.”

 _It’s not happening. I won’t let him take me again. I’ll—I’ll—_ Marcus was still out there somewhere, he wouldn’t let him take her, there _had_ to be a way out of this. The guard’s grip was tight on her arms and she could barely move without her muscles aching from the strain of the position. Every nerve of her skin was alight, hypersensitive, the ghost of Volkan’s touch burning across her cheek.

“I don’t need this one anymore.” Volkan waved a careless hand in the bound man’s direction—because he was buying a _person_ , that was why Felicia was here in the first place—but his eyes never left hers as he spoke. “I found something better. Kill him.”

The words had barely broken through the swirl of Felicia’s mind before the other guard stepped forward, knife glinting in the streetlight. The man was thrashing, yelling through his gag, and—a flash of metal at his throat, and a gurgle, and blood flowed freely, puddling on the cobblestones below. The man fell to the ground, dead. Felicia didn’t realize she was screaming until the guard holding her clamped a harsh hand over her mouth, smothering her.

Becker looked between the dead man and Volkan in shock. “You—I could’ve still sold him and gotten _something_!” Felicia was breathing heavily, leaning against the arms holding her, eyes locked on the body and the spreading pool of blood. She flinched at the touch of a warm hand on her face, and Volkan tilted her head to look at him once again.

“I’ll still pay you,” he said, his eyes gleaming on hers. “Indirectly, you brought me something much better.” He slowly smiled, and Felicia saw her hope flickering to nothing right before her eyes.

 _No._ He wouldn’t take her again. She wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —let him. She took a shuddering breath, trying to still the frantic hammering of her heart. A man was just _murdered_ in front of her, and if she didn’t act very carefully, she would be next. But if she didn’t act at all, she would get taken by Volkan to—wherever he was going to take her, and she would be trapped with him, and—

A movement among the shadows caught her eye, and then she saw Marcus, creeping closer to peer over some boxes. As soon as she realized what he was doing she averted her gaze, forcing herself to stare back at Volkan again, praying he hadn’t noticed where she was looking.

“Hey!” One of the guards called out, and Felicia’s stomach dropped. “Who’s there?”

Volkan turned to look, his hand still holding Felicia’s cheek. When he faced her again, his eyes glimmered with anticipation. “Ah, so your friend _did_ come along,” he said. He finally released her face and she gave an involuntary sigh of relief; but then he addressed his guards, and his words filled her with dread. “Take him.”

The guard drew his gun and stepped out, and Marcus straightened up in alarm. Felicia's pulse roared in her ears. _Please, don’t leave me with him. Don’t let him touch me. Don’t let him take me._ She steeled herself. “ _Run!_ ” she yelled, throwing herself again against the arms of the guard holding her. “Get out! You promised!” Blood racing, she slammed her heel down on the foot of the guard and threw all her weight back, finally breaking free from the iron grip. She scrambled forward, desperate, panicked—and made it two steps before a powerful hand gripped her throat and slammed her back into a shipping crate.

She wheezed, eyes watering as she looked up into Volkan’s face once again. He held her neck with a single hand and barely seemed winded from tossing her around. His grip was tight, just shy of cutting off her air, and she scrabbled uselessly at his arm.

“Looks like he’s leaving you to the wolves once again.” He pressed her harder into the crate as his free hand raked down her side. Checking her for weapons, she realized as she tried in vain to push him off. “Some friend he is. After all you do for him.”

Volkan was gathering magic; she could feel the hum of it in the air, vibrating through her skin, and she thrashed harder against him in panic. She had no idea what sort of magic he practiced, but she knew just how cruel he could be, and the look on his face was bringing her back to a secluded alcove at a party and fingers prying her vulnerabilities apart.

“Do you think he’ll come back for you if you scream?” he asked, and he pressed his fingers into her collarbone.

The jolt of pure magic shot through her like a blast of electricity, and her vision went black as she collapsed bonelessly to the ground. She must’ve screamed; she could feel her throat, ragged and raw, but she was senseless beyond the all-encompassing pain pulsing through her. Every nerve of her body was white-hot, on fire.

She lay curled on the ground, heaving with sobs and trembling, as the pain receded and her surroundings slowly edged back into her awareness. She could hear talking above her, distant and foggy. “Shouldn’t we keep her quiet?” It was Becker, his voice concerned but deferential. “Someone will hear her.”

“No one is coming for her.” Felicia flinched at Volkan’s voice, and again at the soft nudge of his shoe against her shoulder. Weak, she rolled onto her back, and he crouched above her.

“I had this made for that boy back there,” Volkan murmured, and she saw a glint of light as he pulled something from his pocket—a syringe. _Fuck._ “But, well, it seems he won’t be needing it.”

Felicia tried to twist away from him, but her body still ached with the magic he’d forced through her and her movements were sluggish. Volkan held her head with a deceptive gentleness, and then she felt the telltale prick at her neck.

“No—” Her words were slurred. “What—”

“Relax.” He smoothed down her hair as he removed the syringe, and a wave of terror washed over her at the sight of it, empty, the tiniest bead of blood at the tip. _Her_ blood. Her world was closing in on her. She saw only Volkan’s face, looming above her with an expression of mock-comfort. Felt only his arms, wrapping around her limp body and lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Heard only his voice, whispering _just let it happen_ as she sank into darkness.


End file.
